


Stand and Deliver

by Piinutbutter



Category: Marathon (Video Games)
Genre: Dom/sub, Dubiously Consensual Loyalty Kink, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 02:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14368644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piinutbutter/pseuds/Piinutbutter
Summary: This was not in the mission plan. Or in his job description. He’d file a complaint, but the Rozinante’s HR department consisted entirely of Durandal.





	Stand and Deliver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starlatine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlatine/gifts).



The security officer had gone through some serious shit in Durandal’s employ, but this was a new one even for him.

Durandal kept tabs on every venue of Pfhor communication he could get his figurative hands on. When a poorly-encrypted private message between upper management tipped him off to the existence of a secret laboratory on some backwater planet, Durandal adjusted the Rozinante’s course so quickly the security officer could swear he felt the ship spin.

“You bet I want to know what they’re making in there,” Durandal explained. “So you’re going to get me a piece of it. And shut down their operations while you’re in there, of course.”

The security officer tossed back the ship’s best imitation of coffee. Which tasted like battery acid, but at least it had caffeine. “By ‘shut down,’ you mean...”

“Smash their heads in.”

He smiled. “Awesome.”

Of course, an opportunity to shoot aliens also meant an opportunity to get himself injured. He was fine with that. What he was not fine with was getting some sort of super-secret experimental Pfhor weapon dumped out of a vat and straight onto his head. Durandal laughed at him as he struggled to clean the gunk out of his helmet, because of course he did. Asshole.

When the security officer didn’t spontaneously combust or melt into a pile of bones, Durandal promised to rummage through the lab’s computer system for info on what the weapon was actually supposed to do. The security officer was in the middle of punching out a circuit panel when Durandal came back with his not-answer.

“Well,” Durandal began. “This will be interesting.”

The security officer paused with his hand pulled back, electronic debris buried in the knuckles of his gloves. “So? What’s gonna happen to me?”

Durandal was using the smug, amused voice that made the security officer want to find his mute button. “I could tell you, but it’d be much more fun to watch you find out in real time. Enjoy the rest of your mission.” 

“What? No. Fuck you. Get back here and tell me.”

“Sorry, I do not understand that command. Beep boop.”

“I can’t believe I put up with you.”

Reluctantly, the security officer kept going deeper into the facility, pocketing the stupid gadgets that Durandal wanted and punching the lights out of any hostiles. Durandal interjected with words of wistful praise for his violent accomplishments every now and then as usual, but he still refused to explain what the stupid goo was doing to him.

When he felt the first effects of it, he assumed it was a poorly-timed fever. Heat crawled to the surface of his skin, itching beneath the tight, heavy material of his combat gear. He brushed it off and focused on clearing the basement rooms of any stray Pfhor, but it grew too strong to ignore. He holed himself up in a storage closet and leaned against the door, his legs suddenly weak.

“Having fun?” Durandal piped up.

“No,” he breathed. “I feel like I’m on fire. It feels like-”

Oh. Ohhh. Shit. He knew what it felt like. This was not something he needed right now.

Durandal burst out laughing at his startled silence. “Those crazy alien slavers would be the ones to develop an aphrodisiac for use in combat.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He tugged at the neck of his shirt. He really needed to be somewhere cold right now. Preferably naked. “This is stupid. Get me back on the ship. I already found your precious experiments.”

“Are you sure? If you ask me, masturbating in your enemies’ former base is a suitably spiteful and symbolic gesture of victory.”

“I didn’t ask you. Ship. Now.”

“Aw. You’re no fun.”

At least Durandal had the decency to dump him in his bedroom rather than forcing him to make small talk with the S’pht in this condition. He started stripping out of his armor the moment he rematerialized. Durandal could see him out of the camera in the corner of the room, but he’d stopped bothering to try for modesty long ago. Durandal could have chosen to turn off the feed at any time if nakedness made him uncomfortable. Surprise surprise, he never did.

“So I can just jerk off or something and this stuff will get out of my system, right?”

“Potentially.”

“The hell does that mean?”

Durandal hummed. “Looking at the research progress logs, it appears that the final version of this weapon was meant to debilitate its victims for twelve hours, regardless of whether they gave into their bodies’ need for sexual release. However,” Durandal spoke over the beginning of his protest, “you arrived before the final formulation was perfected. The liquid in the vat you so intelligently stood directly under was an old prototype, nowhere near as long-lasting.”

“So...that’s a yes to my original question?”

“For your sake, I suppose we can hope.”

The security officer sat in a corner of the room, his back to the wall and his legs stretched out on the floor. For once, the natural chill of the ship was a blessing. The cool metal felt blissful on his flushed bare skin.

“Well?” Durandal asked, interrupting his moment of relief.

“Well what?” 

“Aren’t you going to ‘jerk off,’ as you put it?”

The security officer sputtered. “Not with you here, I’m not.”

“Why not? Do you think I can’t see you at night when you reach your hand beneath your sheets? Have you forgotten that I have access to all of your vitals? You should hear how your blood rushes when you pleasure yourself.”

...Point taken. He probably should have figured Durandal would notice that. Didn’t make it any less weird.

“Honestly,” Durandal said, “you should be thanking me for the benevolent discretion I employed by not confronting you in the act.”

“Thanks a bunch,” he muttered, giving the surveillance camera an enthusiastic middle finger. “Still not sure why you need to be here - as in, talking to me. I know you’re always here. But it’s different when it feels like you’re actually present.”

Durandal was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was lower. More serious. “Let me put it another way: You’re mine. We both know it. No one and nothing gets to control you except me.”

That...really should have creeped him out. On multiple levels.

What it actually did was make the heat in his stomach pulse eagerly.

He whined to the S’pht sometimes that spending so much time with Durandal was driving him crazy. Maybe it was.

“Now that we’ve reasserted the chain of command in this working relationship,” Durandal continued, “You need to get that mess out of your body. And, generous polymath that I am, I’ll lend you my knowledge on how best to do it.”

The security officer scratched the back of his neck. “All I’m hearing is ‘I’m a perv who’s totally getting off on this.’”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wasn’t sure if his budding headache was a side effect of the weapon or dealing with Durandal. “You don’t even have a dick. How are you an expert on this?”

“Do you have any idea the sheer volume of pornography the Marathon’s population consumed on a daily basis?”

Fair point.

The security officer groaned. “If you tell anyone about this, I’m ditching you ASAP on our next planetside stop.”

“I would never.”

“You would ever.”

“You wound me, but you aren’t incorrect. However, in this case, I give you my word. Do you trust me, or shall I start monologueing on the complex psychological motivations behind my desire to keep this intimate moment between the two of us?” 

He sighed. “Fine. Whatever. I trust you.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth they felt wrong. Why the hell should he trust Durandal? The AI had dumped him in boiling lava, thrown him off buildings, kidnapped him (multiple times!), and tossed him in cryostasis without any inkling of his consent. And yet, here he was. Trusting the AI not to take advantage of his vulnerable state. 

Okay, Durandal was definitely getting to him. After this, he was demanding some goddamn vacation time.

...but first things first. The aching heat in his body was a nuisance, and dragging the treatment process out wouldn’t do him any favors. If Durandal was offering to help, he might as well accept. But only for the convenience factor. Yeah. One-hundred percent about convenience.

He made a ‘go on’ gesture to the camera and drew one knee to his chest. His thigh brushed the raging hardon he’d been trying not to think about for the last few minutes. “Alright then, great and powerful sexpert. Show me the path to enlightenment or orgasm or whatever.”

Durandal scoffed. “Humans these days. No sense of romance. But I suppose I’ll indulge you.”

“Like this wasn’t your idea, you little-”

“First,” Durandal interrupted, “breathe. No. Slower. Deeper. Your breathing pattern has been erratic since you arrived onboard, and your current oxygen intake isn’t sufficient. In other words: Relax.”

That was easier said than done. Durandal wasn’t wrong, though - now that he actually paid attention to it, he really did feel out of breath. The fact that Durandal knew his body better than he did was another thing that should have skeeved him out. It was another thing that shouldn’t have been as much of a turn-on as it was.

“That’s better,” Durandal said once his breathing had returned to normal. “Now, the rest of your body is still too tense. Stop clenching your muscles.”

The security officer gritted his teeth. “I know you can’t actually _feel_ things, so maybe you don’t understand just how irritating having this shit in my bloodstream is.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m giving you an order.”

Oh, so that was how this was gonna be? Okay. If Durandal wanted to play this game, the security officer was going to beat him at it. He pushed back on his reflexive physical responses, forcing his muscles to relax. It did make him feel a little better (though there was no way he was going to give Durandal the satisfaction of admitting that), but it also intensified the unnatural arousal diffusing through his whole body, now that there weren’t any other sensations to distract him from it.

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now that you’re not inhibiting your senses, touch yourself. Not directly,” Durandal admonished when he reached for his cock. “You’ll only overstimulate yourself at that rate. Feel the skin around the area. The weapon will have concentrated its intensity there upon detecting that it’s occupying a human male.” 

Weirdly enough, the security officer appreciated the calm, businesslike explanations. It was more familiar - more Durandal - than if the AI had suddenly started talking dirty like a porn star. He pressed the heel of his palm around his lower abdomen, and oh shit, yeah, that was _not_ normally that sensitive. His hand slowly made its way to his inner thighs, carefully avoiding the swollen length of his cock, and the heat in his stomach shifted from painful to pleasurable, delighted that its hunger was finally being satisfied somehow.

“Very good.” Durandal was using the same voice he did when he complimented the security officer on a mission well done. Which put the burst of satisfaction the security officer always felt at that in a whole new light. “Stimulate your testicles as well.”

The security officer wanted to make a quip about ‘testicles’ being an egregiously un-sexy word, but he was distracted by the effort it took not to think about why, exactly, his cock was twitching at just hearing Durandal ordering him around. He reached between his legs and gripped his balls, squeezing them between his hands in a motion that started out gentle. He gave up on gentle pretty quickly. 

“That’s it,” Durandal said, and the security officer’s entire body twinged at the gentle pride in his voice. “It’s such a pleasure to watch you do as you’re told.”

The security officer swallowed around the dryness in his mouth. 

“I suppose I can let you stroke yourself now. _Slowly_ , mind you.”

Durandal hadn’t been kidding about overstimulation. He gripped the base of his cock loosely, and even that was intense. He was too late at cutting off the moan that escaped him.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Durandal commented. “New rule: No staying quiet.”

“Fuck you,” the security officer breathed.

“That’s the spirit.”

He tugged at his dick in slow, careful movements, the sensation constantly on the edge of mindblowing and so much pleasure it hurt. Despite his complaints, he made no effort to disobey Durandal’s order, and his groans filled the bedroom, mingling with the low background hum of the Rozinante’s inner workings.

Back on the Marathon, Durandal had asked him something that always stuck with him. _Why do you always go where I want and do what I say?_

He didn’t have an answer then, and he didn’t have one now.

“Good boy,” Durandal said, and _fuck_. It was such a dirty, transparent trick, but the security officer came all over his hand anyway. He couldn’t even make a sound, stunned into silence by the intensity of the orgasm.

He slumped to the side when it had passed, bracing himself against the bits of the wall that hadn’t already been warmed by contact with his body. The only sound in the room for a good minute was his heavy breathing as he recovered. He felt a whole lot better. He also wanted to roll over and sleep for five days.

“Well,” Durandal finally said. The security officer took a bit of pride in the fact that his tone was unsteady. “I suppose that was a satisfactory performance.”

The security officer couldn’t muster up the energy to be annoyed at Durandal’s attempt to play cool. He broke into a happy, breathless laugh and climbed to his feet on legs that were still remembering how to support him. “Thanks.” He added a fond, “You asshole.”

“It’s nothing,” Durandal preened. “Just going above and beyond the call of duty.”

The security officer climbed into the narrow bed on the other side of the room, hardly bothering to throw the sheet over himself before collapsing onto the mattress. “You and me both, buddy,” he muttered into the pillow. “G’night. Don’t wake me up unless the ship is literally on fire, sinking in acid, and blowing up. All at once.”

Durandal dimmed the lights for him. He thought he heard a quiet, “Sleep well,” but that might have been his imagination.


End file.
